


Libertas in estimabilis res est

by MademoiselleNoir



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Rome, Alternate Universe - Historical, Anal Sex, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Explicit Sexual Content, Family Feels, I'll add context don't worry, Jealous Laurent (Captive Prince), M/M, Slave Damen, Slavery, There will be some fluff, eventually, it was an institution back then
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:34:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24858463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MademoiselleNoir/pseuds/MademoiselleNoir
Summary: The last thing Damen expected upon his father's death was that his brother would sell him into slavery. He didn't expect Kastor to sell him into the family of the man he'd killed, either.He certainly didn't expect-or was prepared for-Laurent, Auguste's younger brother and rumored madman.
Relationships: Aimeric & Laurent (Captive Prince), Aimeric/Jord (Captive Prince), Ancel/Berenger (Captive Prince), Damen & Nikandros (Captive Prince), Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince), Jord & Laurent (Captive Prince), Laurent & Nicaise (Captive Prince)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 20





	1. Some context for you, my friends

First of all, welcome to all my previous readers from Cynics are simply thwarted romatics-if there are any.

Now, for some context about law and slavery in Ancient Rome:

Everyone in Rome was legally dependent on their father, or _pater familias_. When the _pater_ died, all of his children became _pater familias_ of their own families-women simply became independent, as they couldn't be _pater familias_ -, and the only way to maintain control over someone who had no father and was over the age of 14 was to declare them incapacitated and become their _curator_.

When a man under his father's power- _patria potestas_ \- managed to fall into debt without their father's permission, their father was entitled to choose between paying said debt and giving the child to the person they're indebted to. This was called the _noxalis_ regime.

Let me know if you'd like any more explanations and I'll add them.

**TITLE MEANING** : the meaning of the title is "freedom is a priceless thing", which is the universal principle that reigned when someone entered a legal process to free a slave. Those trials never had a monetary penance because freedom was priceless, and therefore no amount of money could ever pay for someone's freedom.


	2. Trans Tiberim

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title meaning: beyond the Tiber-river that was the limit of the city of Rome-.
> 
> Small explanation: for a citizen of Rome to be sold into slavery, it had to be done beyond the city limits, because no citizen of Rome could be made into a slave within the city.
> 
> Translations for latin terms at the end notes

** Seven years ago **

The bed was covered in shadows, even as the candles by its side fought valiantly to keep them away. Still, the older man was able to see the face of his master. He looked terribly ill, for a man as young as he was. His blond hair framed his face, stuck to his skin, and his once shining blue eyes seemed dull. However, there was still life behind them, and the blond man seemed absolutely set on making the most of his time left on this Earth.

“Jord”, he called, and the older man leaned down. “Take the… letter and give it to Laurent when… when he’s old enough”.

Jord blinked a few times.

“But, _dominus_ ”, he began. 

“I know”, the blond man interrupted. “I have… witnesses. They’ll come forward when… the time comes. Laurent needs to be… needs to be old enough, don’t you see?”

He began coughing then, and Jord patted his back a few times and rearranged his pillows. His brown eyes were drenched in sadness, and the blond man chuckled at that.

“I’m already… a dead man”, he said.

Jord shook his head.

“We should go to the praetor with this, _dominus_ ”, he said. “Then, Laurent wouldn’t be under his—”

The blond man laughed, and began coughing again. Jord waited patiently until he began speaking again:

“There will be… no proof left, my friend. Who would believe a slave and a… and a dying man? He’ll kill us all before we can even get the case to trial. He’ll certainly… kill Laurent”.

Jord understood then. Even if they managed to get a _praetor_ on their case, his master’s brother would be dead by then, and that was inconceivable. His master’s priority would always be keeping his brother alive.

“Just…”, the blond man said. “Just keep the letter safe”.

Jord nodded, and held onto his master’s hand once more before leaving the room.

A few moments later, a tall figure walked into the room, and the blond man snorted. The tall figure sat down beside the bed and smiled at his nephew.

“Hello, Uncle”, the blond man said. “Have you come to finish me off?”

The figure shook his head.

“You’re already dead, Auguste”, he answered. “And so is your little slave, and the second he’s old enough, so will your brother”.

Auguste opened his mouth to answer, but he began coughing again, and it became very clear that he was a lot worse than what he’d let on when Jord was still in the room. His uncle waited patiently until he was done before he spoke again:

“Don’t think I don’t know about the letter”.

It was a testament to Auguste’s temper and self restraint that his face didn’t change at all when he heard those words.

“I’ll find it”, his uncle kept going.

Auguste didn’t answer. He knew his uncle would find the letter he’d given to Jord. He wouldn’t find, however, the one he’d hidden in his brother’s own room.

His uncle smirked, misinterpreting his silence, and took one of the daggers he always carried in his belt. When he stabbed Auguste, he was careful enough to do it in the exact same place where Damianos’ blade had injured his nephew months before. However, he stirred the blade until he hit a vital organ and watched as his nephew died.

Still smirking, he walked out of the room, cleaning his blade with a cloth he found by the bed before throwing it away. He didn’t notice the pair of green eyes watching him in the moonlight.

** Present day **

The slave trader seemed very pleased with himself.

Damen hated him.

He was in the habit of hating everyone who would sell him as a slave, though. Especially as the man clearly knew he was a citizen of Rome, and therefore, selling him as a slave within the city limits was illegal, and that was why his brother’s men had dragged him all the way beyond the river.

_Trans Tiberim_ sale, it was called. A sale beyond the Tiber.

“You’re sure no one from his family will come looking?”, the trader asked Kastor’s man. The man nodded. The trader looked him over and smiled. Damen knew he looked big and strong, and the man was probably salivating as he imagined the price he would reach.

As Kastor’s man walked away, the trader turned towards Damen and smiled down at him, as he was kneeling on the dirt of the road they’d met on.

“I have no idea what you’ve done to your brother to piss him off this much, boy, but you’ve given me the deal of the year”, he said.

Damen stared at the man’s toad-like face for a few moments before spitting on the floor before his feet and answering:

“If I wasn’t in chains, I would rip your head off”.

The trader laughed at that and shook his head, pulling on Damen’s chains until he was forced to stand up and follow him to the main stone road that would take them back to the city.

“Alas, you are”, the trader said, still smirking. “You should really learn not to mouth off. The kind of master who enjoys punishing talkers is not the kind you would want to belong to”.

Damen wanted to roar. Instead, he bit his tongue and waited.

Whoever bought him would have a hell of a time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> dominus: master  
> praetor: authority in the city. They managed disturbances and oversaw legal process, but they were not judges, they simply made sure that everything was done legally. Their job changed a lot throughout the duration of the Empire.


	3. Manus manum lavat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title meaning: one hand washes the other. Means that allies cover each other asses'. Used especially when referring to criminal activities.  
> Thanks for reading, comment if you like and enjoy!  
> Translations for other latin terms at the end notes

The market was already crowded when the trader forced his slaves to stand in the stage, and Damen could only look at the faces below him as indifferently as possible, aware that one of them would buy him.

He hadn’t given much thought to slavery before his brother had betrayed him and put him in chains, but he sure was now. He didn’t like the feeling of not being in control, of depending on others so utterly to the point where his only value was monetary and his murder would not be persecuted by any law. 

The law called slaves “ _homo_ ”, “man”, but they really weren’t, for they were things that belonged to their masters as houses and animals belonged to them. One bad master, and they were done.

“Don’t worry”, a voice said by his side, and he looked up to see a woman smiling at him. “You’re strong. Someone with a country house will probably buy you to put you to work there”.

Damen tried to smile at her, but failed. A moment later, the trader pulled her by her chains and began to sell her off. A man bought her after asking if she had any experience with young kids, so Damen imagined she would be caring for someone’s children.

By the time his turn arrived, the trader had already sold most of his slaves. Damen stepped forward and looked at the people who approached the stage defiantly. The trader made him open his mouth and show off his muscles, which had been oiled previously.

“As you can see”, he was saying. “This is a healthy worker. He has all of his teeth and he’s very strong. I’m also told he’s got some experience with swords. He’s a feisty one, so he might require some discipline, but he’s worth it”.

“What about his cock?”, a woman asked in the crowd, and everyone laughed. The trader seemed to be about to lift up his _toga_ and show off his cock, and that was not going to happen, so he stepped away and answered, loud enough for everyone to hear:

“Buy me and find out”.

Damen had an inkling that if the crowd hadn’t laughed as hard as they did, the trader would’ve flogged him, but since they did, the man took advantage of the momentum to begin the sale.

“He also has a sense of humor!”, he said. “Come on, ladies and gentlemen, he’s a great investment! You can even breed him and get more giants like him!”

Oh, gods. The thought of having children who would also be slaves made Damen sick to his stomach. The crowd, however, seemed even more excited by that notion, and in the end he reached a decent enough price. In the last minute, a _liberti_ —that is, a former slave—bought him as a gift to his _patroni_ —that is, his former master.

“What a lucky master!”, the trader said. “To have your _liberti_ appreciate you this much!”

Damen did not share his enthusiasm. The trader pat him in the back twice and handed his chains to the _liberti_ , who seemed particularly jittery. Understandable, in someone who’d probably been once sold in a market exactly like the one they were standing in.

“May I ask who your _patroni_ is?”, Damen asked, assuming the man would be used to obeying people who acted like he did. He was right.

The man looked at him and shook his head.

“Have you ever heard of the Vere family?”, he asked.

Damen cursed inwardly. Of course he’d heard of the Vere family.

He’d killed their eldest son.

* * * * *

Laurent closed Uncle’s closet and cursed.

It wasn’t there.

It had been a long shot, he’d known that from the beginning, but he’d still hoped. He should’ve known there was no way Auguste would hide the second letter in Uncle’s room.

It was probably somewhere that would appear painfully obvious once he found it. But until then, it was a mystery. And he was running out of time.

There was a sword hanging over his head, and it would drop any moment now.

He walked out of Uncle’s room and bumped into Nicaise. The boy looked up at him with a heartless smirk on his face. 

“Hello there, _stultus_ ”, he said. Laurent ignored him and walked away. “I wonder what you were doing in his room”.

Laurent froze. Neither of them needed to specify who “he” was. He turned around and looked at Nicaise. He was wearing a pair of awfully tacky blue earrings that matched the color of his eyes, and his _toga_ was shorter than what was usual in children his age.

“I wonder”, Laurent began, “what it would cost me to keep you quiet on this matter”.

Nicaise smirked and shook his head.

“I’ll think about it”, he said, and he turned around and danced away, like he did when he was happy. Laurent liked him, and related to him somewhere deep in himself, and he hoped he managed to keep the child alive when he turned fourteen—an adult in the eyes of the law—and Uncle tired of him.

Taking advantage of the fact that he was alone in the corridor, he took a moment to sigh before walking away.

* * * * *

Damen hadn’t really paid attention to the Vere family once he’d found out that Auguste was dead. His father’s enemy had been eliminated, and that was all that had really mattered at the time.

He had heard, however, about Laurent.

Auguste’s younger brother should be around nineteen years of age, an adult in the eyes of the gods and the law, and yet he had no control over his own wealth. The reason was that his uncle had declared him a _furiosus_ and claimed the right to be his _curator_ and make his legal decisions for him.

From what Damen had heard, that had been a sound decision. There were rumors about Laurent’s behavior that were deeply concerning, and Damen hoped he didn’t end up serving him.

He also hoped no one would recognize him. Neither Laurent nor his uncle had ever met him, so it wasn’t a far-flung hope, but he was still worried. He had no idea of what they would do to the man who’d killed their beloved Auguste.

He dragged his feet all the way to the Vere household, albeit imperceptibly, and he looked down when the _liberti_ took him across the threshold. The first thing he saw were a pair of sandals.

Then, what seemed to be a formal _toga_ —longer than the normal ones for daily use—and very pale hands.

“What’s this?”, a cold, harmonious voice asked, and Damen felt the _liberti_ flinch by his side.

“A gift for your uncle”, he answered nonetheless, and Damen realized he was standing in front of Laurent of the Vere family. He swallowed and looked up, unwilling to show fear even in these circumstances. If he was recognized, he’d rather die now and not later.

He found the bluest eyes he’d ever seen staring back at him, and a lovely face framed by blond locks. Laurent’s mouth was set in an indifferent line, and his eyes showed no emotion.

“A gift?”, he asked. “For Uncle?”

He looked at Damen’s side, at the _liberti_ , who must have nodded, for he set his eyes on Damen again.

“You might as well have bought him a bull”, he commented, and the _liberti_ let out a relieved laugh. 

“Yes, he’s big, isn’t he?”, he asked.

Laurent looked Damen all over and then nodded to himself. He looked surprisingly rational for a _furiosus_ , but then again, they usually had periods of lucidity. He opened his mouth and seemed about to say something when a new voice spoke up:

“I believe my nephew would enjoy this slave far more than I ever could”.

Laurent tensed immediately, and he looked back. Damen followed his gaze and looked at who he imagined was Laurent’s uncle.

“But this slave is for you, Uncle”, Laurent commented, and his uncle approached him and lifted up a hand to caress his hair. Laurent stepped away before it could reach him, and his uncle looked disappointed for a second, before he managed to pull himself back together.

“All of your slaves are very old”, he said, with the patience reserved for children and lunatics, and he looked at Damen. “This one seems to be around your age. Wouldn’t you like to have someone younger around?”

Laurent seemed to be about to answer, but then he shut his mouth. He shrugged, and his uncle smiled widely.

“It’s all set, then”, he said, and he looked at his _liberti_ for the first time. “I appreciate your gift, Guion”.

Guion answered politely and they began talking as they walked away, leaving Damen alone with his new master. Laurent tilted his head to the side and stared at him some more. Damen found it slightly unsettling.

“What’s your name, _servus_?”, he asked.

Damen almost flinched at the name. Almost.

“Damen”, he answered. If he used his family nickname, he thought, it was less likely that anyone would recognize him.

Laurent nodded and turned, beckoning him to follow. Damen obeyed, and they crossed a few rooms until Laurent found the man he was looking for.

“Radel”, he called, and the man jumped and turned to look at the blond man. “This is Damen, Uncle’s newest slave”.

Radel was short, but wide, and he looked at Damen like an expert overseer of slaves would. He approached them and touched Damen’s muscles, nodding to himself.

“Show him where he can sleep”, Laurent ordered. “And keep him away from my rooms”.

Radel nodded, and Laurent walked away. Damen watched him go. He’d never seen someone so beautiful look so cold, and he was amazed. 

“Come on, _servus_ ”, Radel said, and only then did Damen realize that he’d walked to the entrance of the room and was waiting for him. 

Damen followed him as he left the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> homo: man.  
> toga: clothing. Basically like the Akielon clothing. Usually ending above the knees, the formal ones were longer.  
> liberti: freed man. Former slaves were under their former master's protection, meaning they owed them loyalty and burial.  
> patroni: former master of a freed slave, patron.  
> stultus: idiot, dumbass.  
> furiosus: madman. They had what was called curator, basically a legal guardian.  
> servus: slave


	4. Ad hominem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title meaning: literally, against the man. It refers to the act of not believing something because of who is giving you the information.  
> As usual, further translations in end notes.  
> Enjoy!

Damen’s first task after he was settled in, a few days after his arrival, was to aid Laurent in the baths, so he didn’t quite understand why the man seemed surprised to see him. Since his house was large enough to hold its own baths, shouldn’t Laurent be used to having slaves help him?

Not that Damen wanted to acknowledge that he was a slave. He just knew it would be better to pretend he was tame until he could get away and find Nikandros to ask for his help.

“What are you doing here?”, Laurent asked, and Damen forced himself to _not_ roll his eyes. He’d just been freed from his chains; he didn’t want them back on so soon.

“Didn’t you ask for me?”, he asked.

Laurent seemed vaguely amused for a moment, and then he shook his head. Damen shrugged.

“Radel told me to come”.

“I’m sure he did”, Laurent answered, and then clicked his tongue. “Since you’re here, go get the purple herb from the shelf”.

Damen obeyed, and he could hear Laurent undressing. The boy never seemed to be out of his formal _toga_ , never wearing the shorter ones men his age usually preferred.

“Why are you always so formally dressed?”, he asked. Maybe it was part of his insanity.

Laurent raised an eyebrow in his general direction.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your concern”, he answered, and he was only in his underwear, all milky skin and muscles, so perfectly sculpted that Damen almost missed the scar. It was a long, unfriendly thing, and it was perched on the left side of Laurent’s torso. Before he could even think about it, Damen was reaching out to touch it, and Laurent was jumping back.

“Get out”, the man muttered, eyes and tone dripping with outrage.

Damen left.

An hour later, Radel came to collect him and he was whipped until he passed out.

* * * * *

It was the middle of the night when a slim figure walked into Nikandros’ household.The figure was covered head to toe by a deep blue cape, and only its eyes were visible.

He wasn’t asleep when it happened; he hadn’t been sleeping all that well since his friend and ally Damen had disappeared. Died, according to Damen’s brother, but Nikandros doubted that.

Even though there had been a proper funeral for both Damen and his father, something rubbed Nikandros the wrong way. The ghost of Damen’s smile seemed to haunt him every night, scaring his sleep away and forcing him to sit at his table and ponder.

He was doing that when he heard footsteps down the hallway, approaching his bedroom. He got up and picked up his _gladius_ from the floor by his chair, where he’d left it when he got out of bed. When he heard the figure approach the doorway of the room he was in, he intercepted it and placed the blade on the intruder’s neck. He heard the intruder’s breath pick up.

“Who are you and what are you doing here at this hour?”, he hissed in the intruder’s ear. Their breath went back to normal and a voice he knew all too well answered:

“Get this blade out of my face and I’ll tell you”.

Nikandros stepped away and Jokaste removed the cape from her head. Long blond locks fell down her shoulders and framed her delicate neck, and Nikandros understood for a second why Damen had been so enthralled by her. Until, that is, he met her cold eyes and remembered exactly what she had done. He smirked at her with as much contempt as he was able to muster and said:

“How is your romance with Kastor going?”

Jokaste didn’t do him the honor of acknowledging his question, choosing to walk into the dining room where he’d been sitting instead and caressing his table with her pale fingers. She stopped for a moment, and then looked back up at him.

“I though you might like to know”, she began, and then paused for a moment before nodding and continuing: “that Damen is not dead”.

Nikandros’ heartbeat stopped. Even though he had hoped for this, a small part of him was still surprised. He felt shock, and then joy, and then anger, because he knew—or had an inkling of—what had happened to his friend.

“What did Kastor do to him?”, he asked, and Jokaste’s eyebrows rose.

“Smarter than you look, are you?”, she mocked, and he felt the sudden need to throw cold water at her.

“He’s the only one who could possibly benefit from Damen disappearing”, he explained instead, and she nodded.

“Damen is alive, but he might die soon if you don’t do anything about it”, she said next, and he gestured for her to continue. “Kastor sold him into slavery, _Trans_ _Tiberim_ , and he was bought by the Vere family”.

This time, Nikandros’ eyebrows were the ones to rise.

“Vere as in…?”, he began, and Jokaste nodded.

“Auguste, yes”, she answered, and Nikandros cursed. 

“How do you know this?”, he asked next, feeling naturally suspicious. She shrugged.

“Kastor told me. He thinks I’m on his side”, she said, walking around the table until she was standing before him again. He tilted his head to the side and asked:

“Aren’t you?”

Jokaste chuckled and shook her head, and Nikandros wasn’t sure whether she was laughing at him, Kastor or herself.

“I wonder”, she finally answered, and then put her cape back above her head. “My job here is done. I’ve told you where Damen is; go find him”.

With that, she walked away. Nikandros could’ve asked why she was helping Damen, or why she didn’t do anything more to aid him if she was willing to risk herself to help at all, but he didn’t.

He knew the answer to both of those questions.

* * * * *

Laurent was sitting on a chair, his legs on the table before him, when Aimeric arrived. As usual, he looked nervous upon sharing space with Laurent’s Uncle. Laurent was tempted to sigh.

“He’s out”, he said instead, and Aimeric’s shoulders relaxed instantly. He approached the table and sat down on the chair beside Laurent’s.

“He’s gone to get his ass kissed by my father, hasn’t he?”, he asked, and Laurent shrugged.

“Your father brought an interesting gift”, he answered instead. Aimeric looked at him, clearly interested. Laurent brought his legs down and sat properly, leaning on the table.

“Damianos of the Akielos”, he said, and Aimeric’s eyebrows shot up. Laurent was tempted to force his mouth shut, but he knew that unwarranted touching was a bad idea with his Uncle’s “pets”.

“I imagine that went well”, Aimeric said, cautiously, and Laurent chuckled. “Oh, no. What happened?”

Laurent shrugged and got up, walking towards the inner patio of his household. Aimeric followed, footsteps unsure and quick.

“I had him whipped until he was unconscious”, he finally answered, and he could hear Aimeric sigh.

“You do know that that kind of behavior just makes you look like the madman your uncle says you are, right?”, he asked. 

Laurent nodded. Of course he knew. He was aiming for that. He wanted his Uncle to believe his hatred for Damianos would outweigh his desire for victory.

“You also realize that Damianos didn’t kill Auguste”, Aimeric added, and this time it didn’t sound like a question. “Or do you still not believe me?”

Laurent turned to look at him. Aimeric had been a slave around the time of Auguste’s death, and he’d been the only one to witness Uncle’s final betrayal. At the time, Laurent hadn’t wanted to believe him. It had been easier to blame everything on Damianos and train to kill him.

“You know I believe you”, he said at last. “I freed you, didn’t I?”

Aimeric laughed at that, shaking his head.

“You didn’t do that for me”, he answered, and Laurent remained silent, because it was true. That was only one of the reasons why he’d freed the _liberti_.

“How’s Jord?”, he asked instead, and Aimeric blushed. Laurent looked away, hiding a knowing smirk.

“He’s fine”, Aimeric answered. “He travels a lot, as you asked him to”.

Laurent nodded. Good. The more Jord traveled, the harder it would be for Uncle to catch up with him. He was going to leave, as he had nothing else to say, when Aimeric spoke up again:

“And how are _you_?”

Laurent stared at him, but Aimeric didn’t look away.

“Other than Damianos’ arrival and the feelings that it has awaken in you, how are you?”, Aimeric insisted.

Laurent looked away first for the first time in his life. It was a perfectly normal question, and yet he was unable to answer. He was as he had been since he turned fourteen and Uncle had branded him a madman and managed to become his _curator_ , he supposed. 

“I’ll see you next week”, he said, and walked away. Aimeric didn’t try to stop him again.

* * * * *

Damen woke up slowly.

The pain on his back was an evil, twisted thing, assaulting him when he least expected it and making him moan like a cat giving birth. He was able to sit up the day after his whipping, though, and the salve someone applied to his back when he was asleep seemed to be working magic. Still, he cursed himself for believing, even for a moment, that a _furiosus_ like Laurent would always be lucid.

Four days after his punishment, he woke up to hands applying the salve to his wounds and a toga right before his eyes. It was a long, formal _toga_ , so he didn’t have any trouble guessing who was standing before him.

“Come to appreciate your handiwork?”, he asked, because he was in pain and didn’t care that it was a bad idea.

Laurent crouched before him and looked him in the eye, tilting his head to the side, and he looked like he was evaluating Damen. He opened his mouth, and then shut it again. Damen wanted to punch him.

“You’ll live”, Laurent said. “And who knows? Maybe you’ll learn something”.

Damen would’ve laughed if it hadn’t been so painful.

“Yeah?”, he asked, unable to stop himself. “Like what? How to pay for your bad moods?”

Laurent stared at him, eyes devoid of anger or any other emotion before answering:

“No. Like how to at least pretend to be a proper slave”.

Then, he got up and walked out of the room, leaving Damen wondering what the gods that had been about. Did Laurent know he hadn’t been born a slave? Did Laurent know who he was? There was no way he knew. Surely, he would've been killed the second Laurent found out.

A day later, Laurent’s uncle walked into his small room—he shared with another slave who seemed to dislike him deeply—and looked down at him. Damen did his best to look up, laying down as he was, but he only managed to look at the man’s _toga_.

The Curator clicked his tongue.

“I feared something like this might happen”, he said. “My nephew is a rational man when he’s lucid, but he can become very violent when his madness takes over”.

After Laurent’s visit, Damen wasn’t so sure of that. It hadn’t seemed like Laurent was mad at all. Laurent hadn’t seemed regretful, or like he didn’t remember punishing Damen, or insane at all. It had looked more like a completely lucid, rational decision. Damen was beginning to question Laurent’s so-called madness, but it didn’t seem like a wise choice to say so to the man’s uncle.

“I hoped you could be a stabilizing presence”, the Curator said, clicking his tongue again. “Alas, it seemed I was wrong”.

Damen kept quiet, not really understanding where this was going. Finally, the Curator crouched and looked him in the eye. His eyes were blue, like Laurent’s, but it was a different, less vivid kind of blue.

“I worry about him greatly”, he said, and Damen nodded slightly to signal that he understood. “You’re his age, perhaps a little older, and capable of keeping up with him. I’d hoped you could make sure he keeps out of trouble and let me know if you witness anything concerning”.

Oh. So that was what this was about. The Curator wanted Damen to spy for him. Damen cleared his throat before answering:

“Your nephew doesn’t trust me. Why would he ever allow me to witness concerning behavior?”

The Curator smirked and touched the side of his nose as he winked.

“He’ll never expect me to ask for your help”, he answered. “And he won’t believe you to be enough of a threat to hide his misbehavior”.

Damen wasn’t so sure about that, but he was in no position to make enemies, so he nodded slightly and allowed the Curator to interpret it as he wished. The man nodded, clearly pleased, and went to pat his shoulder before remembering himself. He chuckled helplessly and shook his head instead.

“I’ll come and see you once you’re back in Laurent’s service”, he said, and then he left.

Damen wondered how a man like him ended up having to care for a hellcat like Laurent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> toga: clothing.  
> gladius: short sword.  
> liberti: former slave.  
> curator: guardian.  
> furiosus: madman.


End file.
